Author's note: So... this is like the longest chapter I've ever written for this story, for now. Haha. It was really hard to write this chapter, because at one point, it was written in Eli's POV, but it was when he didn't know his name, so I couldn't very well mention his name either. I always had to replace it by pronouns. Sounds confusing now, but ... just read it and you'll get it. :) I skipped like two weeks of the story because who really wants to read depressing chapters in detail where the possibility of Eli dying is the main topic of discussion? We all love him too much to let ourselves think of his death, haha.

I would like to add that although I've been updating a lot and frequently, it will not always be like that. I have big tests coming up this week, so my updating pace will simmer down a bit, haha.

Anyway, please, please, please, PLEASE review. It means the world to me. The more you REVIEW, the faster I'll upload the next chapter! ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi ... but I wish I did.

Clare's POV

Time without Eli has been unbearable. She constantly felt lonely, even though she wasn't alone—Adam, Alli, her parents, and even KC made sure of that. The guilt was never-ending; hypothetical thoughts and situations kept swarming into her head, pangs of culpability kept hitting her stomach spontaneously and tears always threatened to fall down her cheeks, even when she was at school. During the two weeks and a half that Eli was gone, no one caught Clare with a smile—she couldn't even muster a fake one. It didn't stop there, however. Cece and Bullfrog signed the life support papers, signifying that if Eli wouldn't wake in two days time, not only would Eli be considered brain dead, but he would also stop breathing. There would be a funeral the following week. But Clare kept forcing her mind to avoid that troubling thought; she couldn't bear thinking about Eli's funeral, knowing that the accident—no matter how many times people told her it wasn't—was partially her fault. It was ironic, in a way. She remembered Eli informing her in his hearse that he used to feel the same guilt towards his ex-girlfriend's death. Back then, she was just another ignorant voice, telling him that: It's not your fault. Now the roles were reversed; Eli was on the verge of dying and Clare was the one who was getting all the consoling comments. How did Eli go through it all? How did he face all this guilt? She kept asking herself. Sure enough, Clare remembered that he never has; that there was always a part of him that felt like he didn't deserve Clare for what he has done to Julia.

Clare felt like she was breathing underwater. She felt vulnerable, helpless ... hopeless. She felt like she was getting suffocated—but this time, it wasn't because of Eli; it was because of herself and what she had brought upon Eli and all who loved and cared about him.

School ended, which signalled the arrival of a new weekend. Any other day, she would be ecstatic for the time saved for herself, but this was the weekend that would determine Eli's fate: life or death; will he wake up, or will they take him off life support? This was the weekend that would determine Clare's destiny, as well: Will she live a life full of never-ending guilt by her lonesome, or one with Eli, the love of her life, by her side?

This weekend was not just a usual weekend, it was the weekend, and she would be spending every waking—and sleeping, for that matter—moment at the hospital room, beside Eli's bed, praying to God—if there was a God; she was starting to doubt Him at this point; why would an omnipotent God choose to cause this undeniable and excruciating pain to her?; she was starting to understand Eli's decision for being an Atheist—that Eli would wake up.

Eli's POV

The radiating sun was blinding him when he woke up from what seemed like the longest sleep he has ever taken; he rubbed the sleep from his eyes—although it seemed like he has slept for days—which was just preposterous; he was probably exaggerating in number—he still felt a little sleepy, a little tired. His muscles felt sore and numb, and he felt uncomfortable, as if he hasn't stood up for what seemed like ages; he carried on by stretching his arms and legs over the bed; it felt good. He looked down at himself and realized that he was wearing a hospital gown; where did that come from? he thought. Curious, he scrutinized the room that he was in, because surely this wasn't his. For one thing, the room was abnormally blue, which bothered him, because that caused more light to get in. He concluded that he didn't like the color blue. He then went on to check the time; a clock hung on one of the walls of the quaint room—it read seven a.m. Finally, his eyes fell on the body of a girl about his age. The girl was sleeping—her face serene—but he could still see that the girl was beautiful. He wondered what color lay behind her eye lids—was it a simple brown? An enticing green? Or maybe the serene and calm color of the ocean—the peaceful way she slept seemed to hint that the latter would win. Yet, in the back of his head, he couldn't help but to wonder: What was the girl doing here? What am I doing here? Where am I? And as the questions kept passing by, they got to much simpler ones, such as: What's my name? I forgot my name. What's her name? Do I even know her?

He couldn't even remember his own name. What was going on? he thought.

That was when he caught the girl's eye slowly opening. He was right with his guess—her eyes were blue. You have really pretty eyes, he wanted to tell her, but he was afraid that if she really was a stranger, he would scare the girl off. However, something in the back of his head told him that he gave that comment to the familiar blue-eyed girl before, he just didn't know when—or how for that matter—given that he has never met her in his life. It was as if it was a déjà vu feeling, but he shrugged the thought off.

The girl started to smile in what seemed to be like relief, gratitude, and happiness. He didn't dare say a word.

Clare's POV

When Clare woke up that morning, her eyes were greeted with familiar green ones. At first, she thought it was just a figment of her imagination—something caused by sleep deprivation, perhaps. But after squinting her eyes a few times to see if she was dreaming, she acknowledge the situation for being what it really was—real.

Eli is awake, her mind couldn't help repeating as a smile etched onto her face. It was modest and unsure at first, but as seconds passed by, and the more she stared, the smile grew bigger, wider, to the point of nearly reaching her ears. "Eli!" she burst in excitement, as she pounced on him to give him a hug.

"Ow," he groaned, holding his shoulder in pain. It seemed as if he hasn't fully recovered from his broken bones and limbs.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot you were still a bit tender from the accident." Clare blushed a little as she realized that Eli was still numb and sore from the accident. She made a side note, ordering herself to be careful the next time she touched him.

"It's fine, just don't ... hug me again." he said, still wincing in pain. "At least, for now."

For a moment or two, the room was quiet. Clare was unsure of what to say to him—there was just so much on her mind that she needed to let out and confess before she called the doctor to inform him that Eli was okay. And Eli just seemed out of it—too dazed to start a conversation.

Eli's POV

Eli, she had called him. Eli.

Was that my name? Was it short for something? he kept asking himself.

The room was awfully silent as Eli pondered about his name, among other things.

He has learned three things since the blue-eyed stranger has woken up: The first was that she apparently didn't consider Eli as a stranger, but somewhat more of a friend. She wouldn't have attempted to hug him if that were not the case. The second was that his name was Eli—whether that was short for something, he still did not know. And the third was that he overcame some sort of accident, which lead Eli to confirm his theory that he was, in fact, in a hospital room.

His mind went over the new information he has achieved, as if repeating the facts, so that he wouldn't forget them.

"Can you say it again—my name. Please," Eli whispered to the girl, while breaking the silence. He had to make sure it was his real name; he didn't want to be wrong.

"Eli?" the girl asked in confusion. "Why?"

"Can you pronounce my full name, please? First and last." he asked in favour.

"Elijah Goldsworthy." she answered, nonchalantly. "Eli, what's going on?"

Eli shook his head, letting the new information sink in. Still, the name didn't ring a bell. No name rang a bell. Something was wrong with him, that much he knew. The look of confusion and uncertainty in the girl's eyes hinted that. "Can you call the doctor?" he finally figured it out. "I think I lost my memory."